They had another thing in common.
His stomach flopped over when she shook her hair out and the length dropped past her shoulders. “You ought to wear it like that more often,” he said, spellbound.
“I’m afraid that would make me look more woman than judge.”
“Is that so bad?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.
“I’m afraid you’re prejudiced, Detective McGuire.”
Detective McGuire. A few minutes ago, he’d been Doug and she’d been Jess. Come midnight, the ball had ended and Cinderella turned back into a felony judge of the Milwaukee County Circuit Court.
Except for that hair—that gorgeous long hair hanging past her shoulders.
After unlocking her car, she turned back with a smile. “Thank you, Detective Doug. I must admit I had a good time.” She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yeah, right,” he said, with a twisted smile. There was no way he was going to settle for a peck on the cheek like the old codger. She must have guessed his intent, and she stepped back abruptly, but not in time to avoid his arm that snagged her waist and pulled her against him. He swallowed her gasp as their mouths found a fit. Her lips were soft but tasted delicious—and he began to gorge on them, and on the smell of her…the feel of her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds she stiffened to resist, then she settled into the kiss, and slipped her arms around his neck. Her auburn hair drew his hand like a magnet, and he dug his fingers into the thickness. It felt like sliding between silk sheets.
They both gave as much as they took—jockeying for dominance—challenging, dueling and savoring, until they broke apart breathless. She looked him straight in the eye, her chest heaving, and her eyes twin pools of seduction beckoning him to jump in. His loins were on fire, and he was so hard he couldn’t move. Even his hands itched so badly to touch her that he had to clench them into fists. He wanted a lot more than a kiss, and wondered what she’d say if he suggested going home with her. Then he thought the better of it—she wasn’t the kind that hopped into the sack with a guy after one kiss. And one kiss was all he dared—another one, and he’d be pulling her into the back seat of the car. The sooner he put cold metal between them, the better. So he opened her car door and stepped aside for her to enter.
Her fingers trembled when she inserted the key into the ignition. He hoped the Park Avenue wouldn’t start—a sign that they’d stay together and let nature take its course—but the damn engine turned over and purred.
She smiled up at him and for several seconds his gaze held hers as curiosity darkened her brown eyes.
Say it, McGuire! Even if you choke on it, get it out now before you have any more time to think about it. “Good night, Judge Jess.” He slammed the car door.
As she drove away, he stood and watched until the tail-lights disappeared around the corner. Then he headed back to the precinct.
His lips were hard, urgent, against hers. How could he make her insane for more with just the touch of his mouth? Then he touched her with those big, hard hands, and her body came alive as it had never been alive before. She wanted to touch him, too, but for some reason she couldn’t reach him. She moaned his name and opened her eyes.
“Doug?”
The word echoed in an empty room. Moonlight silvered the Belgian lace curtains that shrouded her windows. Jessica lay alone in her bed, sheets tangled about her legs, hot despite the coolness of the night. She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock—3:30. Gee, a whole hour later than she’d awoken after the last erotic dream of—
“McGuire,” she muttered.
Why on earth had she let the man kiss her? Now she couldn’t stop thinking about their first embrace.
If they hadn’t been in full view of everyone on the street, she’d probably have yanked his clothes off right there. Heck, why not be honest? She hadn’t been thinking about the public eye, or anything else while he kissed her. Her dreams proved that. All she’d wanted then—all she wanted now—was all of Doug McGuire.
Liz’s words of that afternoon came back to her. Was her dissatisfaction with her life a result of too much work and too little sex? Would a torrid affair with the delectable detective make everything better? She would certainly sleep better tonight if she wasn’t sleeping alone.
By the time the sun peeked over Lake Michigan, Jessica had given up trying to sleep. She took her coffee onto her terrace and had a stern little talk with herself.
You’re an adult. He’s an adult—or so he professes—though you wouldn’t know it from his behavior. Her words sounded peevish, even to herself, but she was so tired. Her skin felt twitchy, as if it didn’t belong on her body. A scalding hot shower had done nothing to relieve the feeling. Too much coffee, too early in the morning was making her head buzz.
I want him, and from that kiss last night I’d say he wants me. What could be simpler? That sounded better. Definitely more mature. If she could manage to sound like that when talking with McGuire there would be no problem. Of course talking wasn’t the problem—wanting to put her hands all over him was the problem.
Jessica dumped the last of her coffee into the sink and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to stop at the police station on her way to the courthouse and have a heart-to-heart with Detective McGuire.
Though her reception at the front desk was far from welcoming, Jessica had little trouble being directed to her quarry. She walked through the station, head held high despite the stares and whispers. She had not gone into the law to be popular—she’d gone into it to make a difference. Although on some days—like yesterday—she thought she was losing the battle, but most days she figured she’d win her part of the war.
The desk sergeant had directed her to the lower level, third door on the right. Taking a deep breath in the hallway, she steeled herself against her usual libidinous reaction to McGuire. She was here to… Jessica dropped her hand from the door. To what? Offer herself on a platter? She gritted her teeth. With McGuire it wouldn’t do to seem so eager. He was a competitive man. She was a competitive woman. He wanted her, but she didn’t think he liked her very much. So then, why had he kissed her that way? There had been more than desire in that kiss—and she wanted to know why.
Jessica shoved open Door Number Three and nearly swallowed her tongue at the unexpected sight that greeted her.
McGuire, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and nothing else. She’d have thought he had a good butt, she hadn’t gotten a look at his chest. She stood in the doorway and watched the man work.
He was doing bicep curls if she remembered correctly from the single time she’d allowed herself to be tortured in a weight room. The muscles in his upper arms flexed and released, rippling beneath bronzed, smooth skin. Her gaze traveled over the light dusting of hair covering equally defined pectoral muscles and a flat, ridged stomach. The sweatpants rode low on his hips, a drawstring hanging down the front, enticing her gaze to the easily distinguishable bulge despite the looseness of his clothing.
“See anything you like, Your Honor?”
She swallowed and met his eyes. Amusement filled his gaze and she flushed, mortified to be caught ogling him as if she wanted to slip a dollar bill beneath his waistband.
Realizing she stood in an open doorway, Jessica shut the door and leaned back for support. McGuire turned around to replace the free weights in their stand, giving her an excellent view of the backside she liked so much, with the added bonus of naked and rippling shoulder muscles. Her skin began to hum again, and her palms itched to touch that back.
She wished for a moment she hadn’t worn her suit jacket. They kept this place far too hot for a workout room. Sweat prickled her brow.
McGuire turned and began to walk toward her with the loose-limbed, confident grace that was